


Last Ride of the Salty Gull

by GhostCat33



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, First Kiss, One Shot, death mentioned in passing, omg a dragon, teenager figuring themselves out, when dad won't talk to you about dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCat33/pseuds/GhostCat33
Summary: A young Amelia Earhart can claim what few others can in her Dad’s profession, they survived a dragon.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Last Ride of the Salty Gull

**Author's Note:**

> Right, just wanted to do a quick character study of Amelia as a teenager in which one very eventful run on her Dad's ship leaves an impression before she became the bold airship captain years later. Sorry in advance if I got any geography wrong or ship terms, tried to pick a Greek city that had access to a large body of water. Totally a one-shot

Dad had always said the last run of The Salty Gull was going to be a finger to the fates 

Amelia took a glance around for any ships tailing them, leaning over the edge of the crow’s nest. The sky was clear, the sandy yellow cliffs of Argos rose in the distance with the vast city atop dotting the otherwise endless horizon. She could almost hold the entire thing in the palm of her hand. 

“Worst job ever.” She mumbled to herself lowering her great green goggles, adjusting the specs to zoom to bring her closer. The city was in the middle of a festival with buildings decorated with bright colors and matching streamers hung between every alleyway. Huge lanterns were floating delicately in the air changing paper shapes, stretching themselves to the likeness of each of the Gods sacred animals. Each was careful not to cross too close to one another. 

The clouds above had begun to move quickly off the water’s edge, pulling back from the city. They were forming almost a single spiral that stretched in all directions. 

“That’s- strange.” She paused, aiming her gaze up. There was a flash of something bright just beyond the edge, if she didn’t know better she would say a dry storm. She felt her chest grow a little tighter, they were still too far from the port to be safe. 

'How had they been spotted?' It gnawed at her even while she focused on what she needed to do to help buy them the precious few seconds. It wasn't like it was her first time having to help with evasive maneuvers. Just the first time an entire dragon was threatening to descend with all terrible might on them. The network of smugglers had been mutually assured destruction if one ship was caught unawares. It stood even in a place like Argos there were places to hide. She knew to the south they might have a chance to blend with fishing vessels and merchant ships, maybe sneak between ships losing the dragon in a sea of flags. 

A far distant rumble that sounded like rolling thunder was breaths above them now. 

"Portside lean! Full Sail to the daggers!" She called down, her earning cry being repeated across the rafters and deck. They cut across the open waters, moments later entering the narrow passage. The huge pillars clustered together in points, reminded her when the chef’s knives set the wrong way round in the galley threatening to take a finger or eye. 1,000 years shaped by the sea, which hadn’t diminished their size, gave her a bit of hope each time the ship’s hull cracked rocking against a base of one. 

Her footing slipped and she rolled back against the mast, her back sore while she fell to her knees. She righted herself, wincing despite her best efforts from the dull ache that would be a bruise. A few pebbles plonked on her head, knocking off her green goggles. She wiped them quickly off to the side. It would be hard to miss the great jutting spiral pillar that passed overhead. 

“Regain position!” Dad’s voice rang out from below the deck in a snapping order. She didn’t need to see him, she knew it was meant for her. 

“I’m on!” She cupped her hands around her mouth, leaning over the edge of the basket.

If they could cut in between the middle pillars then there was a chance the dragon wouldn’t hit. Maybe the dragon wouldn’t come at all, the clouds could just be the shake of the wings passing over, the thoughts whirled through her head trying to calculate the option. 

A sickening rotted smell crawled up her nostrils, making her dry retch off the side. 

“Sulfur!” She yelled down in warning. It came in time for them to make a last chance turn. Instead of following the channel further to the far side of the outcrop, the Salted Gull popped through a narrow passage into a great wide open basin. Smaller waves here, lapping up to the inlet of a naturally formed cave against the jutting cliffs. The ship eased itself just past the edge, the rocks they had passed on the way in forming a natural curtain. 

A small cheer came up from the deck, a momentary relief, before dying back down. The stillness was eerie. The cave echoed with the gentle waves that reached this far back. Rotting seaweed line the sticky glistening walls, broken up only by the colonies of bright purple glowing barnacles. Amelia craned her neck to see the same twisted painted rocks draining from the ceiling. Shaped by the steady drip of water from above, curling in on themselves in tight cones. 

Amelia ducked in the basket, daring only to lean against the edge with her goggles sensitive to the changes above her. A great, expansive shadow fell across the pillar curtain. She slapped her hands to her ears, expecting a roar. Instead, a single stream of purple fire split across the sky aimed down with the ferocity of a thousand bolts of lighting. A cacophony that was iron and rock and water boiling together in a nexus of a tower of purple yellow fire that spit a hole into the clouds. It crawled out into smaller ripples, dissipating slowly until there were only a few wisps of smoke. A great wave broke across the curtain, rocking the salty gull hard and swelling up the cave. They rose with it, high enough that Amelia felt the slick slime of one of the pointed rocks touch her neck. The wave pulled out, gently lowering the ship back to the basin height. 

'Gods, this better not be the end', She thought miserably. She tried to get a hold of her short, wheezing breaths; even just to her ears seemed too loud. The flap, flap, flap of leathery wings stretched just above them. The large shadow dancing across the surface of the curtain and then the basin blocking out the sun itself. A moment later it was gone, pulled up higher into the clouds.

Amelia undid herself slowly. She locked her knee against the basket, trying to force it to stand still, listening to the wind whistle through the cave. It was a cursed silence. 

Out past the curtain, the water was still sizzling from the heat even at dusk. It churned against the pillars, with an encased base of clear glass frozen at the moment the fire spiral had hit. A much smaller ship with a single mast sat near it. The deck had been torn straight down the middle, water slowly filled the empty pocket. Amelia turned her head to the long scorch marks ripped up the edge of the cliffside, where the ship had been cornered in the blast. The limp flag bearing the mark of Poseidon and underneath that the mark of the Alexandria navy, both half raised, hung from the mast that jutted from the water.

By the time The Salty Gull had been able to limp into port, there was a heavy hand of doubt lingering over the crew. It was an unspoken agreement that any mention of a dragon would be kept until they were far, far away from the city. Amelia had joined Dad on the main deck, to assist with the last scrap of chores before they could disembark. She had finished the final set, holding the manifest for him to review under one arm. He stood with his back to her, wearing the same long worn brown wet seal coat he had every other day. Small wisps of grey hair now knotted in the bun sat low on his neck, a little looser than it had been in the morning. His hand stroked his beard thoughtfully. Shoulders slumped a little more than usual. 

“Amelia.” He said without turning to her, “Good work up there.” 

She let a small smile stretch up to her face, it was the first he had said on this voyage. He cleared his throat once and added, "Don't tell Ma." 

"Don't tell Ma." She repeated out of habit, but the joke fell flat in her chest. Dad was focused on getting the shipment off and his papers in order, obviously shielding himself from having to answer the questions that she wanted to pelt at him. She held down the one at the top of her mind, ‘Why had the dragon attacked the navy? Did it mean it for us?’ 

Amelia instead disembarked with the rest of the crew, when Dad gave the first mate the all-clear. She tugged at the sleeves of her somewhat worn green leather jacket, patting the pocket where her goggles were secure and the few gold heavy in her pocket. It was a welcoming sight to see the row of tavern fronts, the doors ripped off the hinges, punches, and glasses being thrown in the same moment, with laughter drowning out over all of it. The smell of something sweet and salty was floating from up the hill, and she turned to start to follow the main crowd. She was not particularly in the mood to argue with strangers about who could punch harder or what size pint she could handle. Now she wanted to be a no one in the crowd.

'Real adults make their own choices', she told herself walking confidently up the path. 

The streets were buzzing, the crowds were shoving food and sweets by the fistful into her eagerly accepting arms. It was all free, provided by the city. She was full before she even got to the top of the hill, trying to figure out where everyone was getting the wine or maybe it was beer in the large mugs. 

“Scuse me-” She started, bumping shoulders with a halfling who looked about her age, maybe a little older. She wore her wavy obsidian hair in a half knot with an intricate comb in sprawling scrollwork set with a shining mother of pearl. Her dress was bright as the lanterns, elegantly wrapped around her shoulders, unfurling to the ground in a wide sprawl. She didn't seem to mind the hem had been covered in dust, fine gold sandals peaking out.

The girl gave a wide winning smile and Amelia was suddenly aware of just how long she must have been staring. 

“Want one?" She lifted her mug up partly, "I mean if you don't mind missing the opening ceremony."

"What's so special about the ceremony?" Amelia scanned again for anything interesting, but it was a clear night. 

"To honor the great Bella Smock, to show our gratitude, not that they ever actually appear.” The girl rolled her eyes heavily, "Lots of petals, fireworks, great streams of fire, blah you know festival stuff." 

"So, what kind of wine?" Amelia was already turning, the girl clasped her hand in hers leading her in a winding weave through the crowd. 

Amelia struggled to keep pace with her new friend, trying not to spill all her drink while they walked up the winding private path to a cluster of tall, square houses. Their window dark and quiet, she couldn’t help give a quick glance to see if a face was going to shout at them for picking through the narrow alleyway 

“This place is huge, is this one of those, greenhouses-” Amelia started, finally catching up to her friend while they pushed through a roofless archway with a great many plants crowded against each other with sweet-smelling flowers, “How many people live here?” 

“Oh just my family, and they won’t mind.” Her friend assured her by gesturing to a carved stone bench that sat next to a half wall. There was a neat, stone mosaic patio with a great white marble fountain with Poseidon dolphins crashing into the surf of an oyster shell, strung up with the same colorful lanterns. 

Amelia liked this new friend, Mayern, nodding along to everything while she gestured with her hands to emphasize each point. 

She talked about her large family, how she was studying botany, but her family constantly hinted at maybe instead joining in fabric dyeing. That the festival would be even bigger tomorrow when more people would arrive in port and the food just as good. She also had some opinions on Bella Smock, lofty ones that were tied into local politics and merchants and trade regulations. Mayern spoke those barely above a whisper like she was afraid the dragon was going to strike her down where she sat. 

Amelia did not share much of her life, besides she was looking forward to the next city, Athens. That yeah being on a ship was neat, but being in port was always a nice change. She wanted to tell her all about witnessing the bristle of dragon fire roiling the water so hot it left nothing in its wake but held it down with more beer.

"What do you like best? Bout this kind of thing?" Amelia asked her arching streams of magical dancing lights were putting on a show behind them. The courtyard was bathed in quick bursts of purple, azure, maroons, and ochre shadows. Mayern had inched herself closer to her with each conversation change, now half breathing down her shoulder. It wasn't uncomfortable. 

"You get to meet cute girls." She said matter of factly, moving her hand to just over hers. Amelia didn't pull away, turning to stare at her. 

Mayern began to pull away, unsure of what to make of her glance, "Unless you don't-, I mean." 

Amelia stood up putting down the mug on the bench and Mayern followed, expectedly. 

‘Ok, you’ve done this plenty of times with boys, it’s really easy with boys. ’, Her mind started, while Mayern had placed hands on her hips, gently pressing them closer. ‘Yes, this is good. This is very good. Wow. Oh wow, she is so pretty, and her nose is so cute.’

‘Lean in!’ her mind screamed at her and she might have been a little too fast. She planted one right on Mayern's nose, knocking her front teeth on her head trying to pull away. 

Mayern gave a loud surprised shout before turning doubled over in laughter from her trying to contain it clearly to spare her feelings. . 

"I’m nervous.” Amelia spluttered, hoping that Mayern didn't translate that as this is my first time. Mayern recovered turning to face her again and this time planted a proper kiss. It was like being in a squall, the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair and down her back, nothing able to stop her. Amelia tried to keep the goofy smile from spreading over her face when they leaned away from each other after a moment. When they did rejoin the crowd much later, Amelia felt a barbing twinge at having to let go of her hand, though Mayern hadn't hesitated to pull away. Mayern gave her a fleeting half-smile of 'need to get home', giving a wave to a set of halflings that had her sense of style in even more colorful clothes. Amelia watched her be pulled into the happy, tight-knit fold, linking arms with maybe her sister, before she started back far away from them, down to the port. 

Dad was in a mood waiting for the new ship paperwork; a few crew members jumped off and a few new ones replaced them. Amelia was expected on the deck or studying charts for the next course. Dad never liked her being idle if he could help it, and there was always something that needed doing. She almost cornered him in his quarters, a chart under her arm and ready to launch in with, 'What happened with the dragon?'

Yet he had simply taken the chart from her and dismissed her with a sharp glance. 

On their last day, Dad gave her the go-ahead to head off again. While she knew he had nothing pressing, she did not ask about the dragon. Amelia went back to the festival, half holding onto the sliver of a wish she might run into Mayern again. Instead, she was swept up in a ragtag group of half-drunk humans and gnomes her age, locked in step to wherever their whims decided they should go. They could barely contain themselves when they realized she was from far away, asking all kinds of questions about where she had been and seen. 

"Oh well, been great sailing here, water is almost always clear. Now the Black Sea is where you get the most storms." She played them with details of mundane squalls that became monstrous hurricanes and standard authorities that became bloodthirsty guards. She could have talked about the time they almost were stranded in a rocky alcove with doldrums, but it was never exciting to say 'almost died of boredom'. She could talk of the heat that bristled on her arms when they passed that navy wreck. That sometimes being in the wrong place was what killed you on the sea. 

By the end of the day, they had descended on one of the group’s houses, clustered in the center of the roof to see over the adults below. There were little kids crammed in with them, chucking pieces of food at each other, the teens, the swooping gull griffins catching bits in their back claws. All eyes were fixed now watching the giant smoke dragon tearing in looping spirals above the water controlled by a hidden group somewhere just below the jutting cliff side. It was not nearly as big as a real dragon, but it gave the feeling it could be. Everyone cheered in adulation. The perfume of lavender and roses swept up over the stink of rotting seaweed. 

A few cannons shot off in colorful streams of smoke plumes that bloomed into the sky. A loose stream of colorful petals were released far above them, floating gently along with the breeze in a spiraling to be carried off the edges. Amelia tried to mimic what other people were looking with awe and wonder, instead of feeling the sour feeling settling in the bottom of her stomach. She picked the loose petals from her hair, crushing them slowly in her fingers the longer the show went on. 

She was happiest after the new cargo was loaded, the ship headed out on the high tide, rolling over the crested waves. Dad had done a small ceremony in renaming the ship to the Gull. Now they were now an official merchant ship and no Navy was going to bother them. It didn't feel any different setting out even with the new name, and she still had her job in the crow’s nest. She leaned over the edge of the basket, the Gull passed in sight of the cliff with the jagged white mark, visible even from the distance in open water. 

She lowered her goggles to spy on the specs that had gathered along the jutting edge. There was a group of Poseidon clerics in their full regalia clustered on the edge. The tip of the mast of the fallen ship still peaked above the waves between the staggered pillars. They were doing some kind of ceremony, or maybe just finishing one. One at a time they drew up a wreath of finely woven seaweed with a small flickering white flame, tossing it over the edge together. 15 in total, swallowed by the waves dispersing into the foam. She watched until the mark just became another spec on the horizon.


End file.
